


Radstorms and Matching Underwear Sets

by Bird (everyoneblooms)



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout - Fandom, Fallout 4
Genre: Awkwardness, But Maccready is lowkey kinda horny, F/M, I really really don’t know how to tag things, No Sex, POV Robert Joseph MacCready, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:08:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28726362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everyoneblooms/pseuds/Bird
Summary: Running from a horde of ghouls is not exactly the peaceful evening Maccready had envisioned for himself and the boss. He also hadn’t anticipated all the thunder, lightening, and buckets of rain. Fucking radstorms.
Relationships: Robert Joseph MacCready/Female Sole Survivor, Robert Joseph MacCready/Original Female Character(s), Robert Joseph MacCready/Sole Survivor, maccready - Relationship
Kudos: 17





	Radstorms and Matching Underwear Sets

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy. If you haven’t read anything by me before I just wanted to warn you: I don’t believe in proof reading. This is what you get, so you’ll just have to suffer through any mistakes.  
> Also, this is kind of horny. Nothing crazy, but definitely some mildly horny vibes. So if that’s not your thing you might not want to read this.  
> And last is that I’ve really been feeling the Bethesda men with dead wives. Idk, they just kind of hit different lately. So here’s some Maccready. Not sure if I like how I wrote him or not, but here you go!
> 
> CW: mature themes, canon typical violence

Running from a horde of ghouls is not exactly the peaceful evening Maccready had envisioned for himself and the boss. He also hadn’t anticipated all the thunder, lightening, and buckets of rain. Fucking radstorms.

“Alley at 9 o’clock,” he shouts over his shoulder just before a huge boom of thunder shakes the ground beneath them. He pauses to lob a grenade over his shoulder, letting the boss pull ahead of him. 

She almost loses her footing as she rounds the corner and Maccready grips his gun a little tighter, even knowing that if these ferals catch up to them they don’t have a fighting chance. Thankfully, the boss is more nimble than Mac gives her credit for. She pushes herself even harder, full on sprinting now. And then she leaps, just barely managing to reach metal grating of a fire escape. She’s struggling to pull herself up and Mac gets his shoulder under her foot, pushing up in one, quick movement with a grunt.

She hoists herself up and immediately turns to offer him a hand. He doesn’t take it right away, the closest ferals are upon him already. He swings the butt of his rifle and caves in a head, gore bursting everywhere. 

“Come on,” the boss cries. The next feral is so close Mac can see the flecks of blood in the little bit of hair it has left. He reaches for her hand and pushes himself up off the ground as hard as he can. A pair of decaying hands scrabble for purchase on his boot but he kicks the feral in the face and it collapses with a shriek of pain.

The two of them climb higher and higher up the fire escape until they reach the top. They’re three stories up now and the horde is on the ground beneath them, their sunken eyes staring up towards them. A few of them have been momentarily distracted by the blood of their dead pack mates. They’re fighting amongst each other, all trying to get a piece of the corpses before they’re gone.

“Come on,” the boss says, panting hard. She slides humbly through the empty window frame. Mac hesitates, staring down at the pack of ghouls. He wonders what they would do if the ghouls suddenly wisened up and learned to work together. If suddenly they started hoisting each other up to the fire escape. A chill passes over him, making all the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Then Mac slips in through the broken window.

They’re in some sort of apartment building. Eleanor is already halfway down the hall, opening door after door. After she opens the last one she lets out a sigh of relief. “We’re alone.” Maccready allows himself a sigh of relief as well. He hasn’t run like that in awhile and his lungs are burning, last thing he wants right now is a firefight with a gang of raiders.

“This one looks like it has the most stable walls,” the boss calls as she slips through one of the doors. Maccready makes his way down the hall towards her, peering into all the open doorways as he goes. He trusts her as much as he trusts anybody. They’ve been traveling together for a month now and if she says a room is empty than it’s empty. But you can never be too safe.

It isn’t until Maccready gets into the room behind her and shuts the door that he realizes he’s soaking wet and freezing his nads off. His teeth start chattering the second the door is locked. 

Mac turns to see what Eleanor needs help with but the second he gets a look at her he can’t seem to find the words. Her back is to him and she’s digging through her pack and her white tee is soaked through and clinging to her like a second skin. That wouldn’t be a big deal, it’s not like Mac hasn’t seen some skin before, except she’s wearing a _bra_ . 

Macs never seen a bra in his entire life. Well, at least not on a real life girl. He knows the rich old broads in the stands of DC wear them, but he’s never known a girl like Nora to wear one. It’s black and clearly visible through her thin t-shirt.He wonders if she has any others, maybe a lacy one like the girls in the pinup magazines wear.

That makes his neck hot. _Fuck_ ,  this is the boss he’s thinking about, what’s wrong with him? She’s paying him to watch her back figuratively, not literally. He manages to pull his eyes aware from the band of her bra just in time for her to turn around to face him.

“Fuck,” she says. “My pack soaked through in the rain. All my other clothes are wet.” Her teeth are chattering too. “What about yours?”

Mac already knows the answer, his pack is even more worn than hers, but he pulls it from his back and digs through it anyways. Mostly just to keep his eyes from wandering. “No luck, boss. All my clothes are wet too.”

“We need to get out of these clothes or we’re gonna freeze to death.” And then as if it’s that simple she grabs the hem of her shirt and pulls it up over her head and tosses it on top of the pile of all her other clothes.

Mac’s stomach does some kind of terrible lurching movement and for one wild second he’s so sure he’s going to vomit. Her skin is all slick with moisture and her breasts fit so snug in the cups of her bra. The material is wet and her nipples are poking through just enough to be visible.

Then Eleanor is shimmying out of her jeans, doing a sinful little wiggle to get them down past her hips and _Christ_ her underwear are black too. By the time Maccready realizes he’s gawking its too late. The boss has turned around and caught him. Her face flushes and Mac instantly looks away. Now he’s done it.

“Don’t be _weird_ ,” she says, putting as much venom as she can into the last word. Mac’s pretty sure it roughly translates to “don’t be a fucking perv”. He’ll admit that staring at the boss in her panties is not one of finest moments, but he is only human after all.

“You could at least give a guy some warning,” Mac tells her, embarrassed by the way his voice cracks in the middle of the sentence.

“Oh please, not like you haven’t seen a naked woman before.” She pulls some jerky from her pack and tosses him a piece. Mac doesn’t tell her that it’s been five years since he’s seen a naked woman outside of a skin mag.

“What about you?” She asks. “Planning on staying in your wet clothes all night? Because if you catch a cold because you’re too shy to take your pants off I won’t feel sorry for you.”

“You seem awfully desperate to get my clothes off,” Mac grumbles as he starts working on the buttons of his duster. It earns him a laugh from the boss if nothing else. He shrugs his duster off and hangs it over the back of a metal folding chair to dry. He shoves the rest of his jerky in his mouth and gets to work on his flannel. The chill that’s settled into his bones makes his hands shake so bad that it’s a struggle to get the buttons undone. 

He glances up when he hears some rustling coming from Eleanor. She’s unrolling her sleeping bag and running her hands up and down it with a grimace. Must be pretty damp. Hers is at least one of the fancy ones that has a slick outer layer to repel water. Mac’s has been repaired so many times and it still has multiple holes in it. There’s no doubt in his mind that it’s going to be soaked through completely. The boss unzips her sleeping bag completely and lays it on the mattress like a blanket, immediately crawling underneath it until nothing but her eyes and top of her head are visible.

Mac peels the final layer from his upper body with a grimace, tossing the slick tank top onto the floor. He knows that the boss is right, he can’t stay in his wet clothes all night, but its freezing in this building and he’s got goosebumps up and down his arms. Not to mention the fact that the he doesn’t like being this naked in front of the boss and he doesn’t even have his pants off yet. He’s all ribs and hipbones from years of being malnourished. His appearance has never been all that important to him, but it still bothers him that he looks so frail.

He considers for a moment leaving his pants on. He’s still got the image of Eleanor’s slick skin in his mind and if he’s not careful his blood is going to start flowing south. The last thing he needs is his boss to catch a sight of little Maccready, and he doesn’t mean the one down in capital wasteland. But, he knows it’ll be more trouble than it’s worth. The boss can be relentless with her teasing, and he doesn’t want her to find out he really is shy about being in his underwear around her. He kicks his boots off and shoves his trousers down his bony hips unceremoniously, purposefully facing his back to the boss. He’s thankful that today is one of the days he decided to wear something under his pants, and that he’s always been a boxers guy rather than briefs.

He half expected the wolf whistle that issues from Eleanor’s side of the room, but it still makes his ears get all hot. He supposes he deserves it after the way he was staring at her. He directs a few choice curse words at her in his head before he sits down in metal chair and gets ready to begin first watch.

“What are you  doing? ” Eleanor asks, barking out a laugh. “Are you sitting watch in your boxers?”

Maccready bristles. “You’re the one who said we should get out of our wet clothes.”

“Yeah, and go to bed. Set a few mines outside the door and get yourself inside your sleeping bag.”

Maccready does as she says, sending a few more telepathic unpleasantries her way. On one hand, she has a point. Sitting in his boxers until second watch would be stupid, at that point he might as well just stay in his wet clothes. On the other hand, how was he supposed to know he was supposed to go to bed? They never sleep at the same time unless they’re in a settlement. 

Maccready goes to his pack and begins to unfurl his sleeping back on the floor. It hits the ground with a wet smack that makes him grimace.

“I told you that you’d regret not replacing that old bag sooner.”

Maccready ignores her and starts to shimmy down into it with his jaw clenched tight. He hates being wet, and now he’s going to have to sleep in a soaked sleeping bag all night. He’s definitely going to catch a cold.

The boss sighs loudly. “Alright, come here,” she says, scooting herself all the way to one side of the mattress. Maccready doesn’t budge. He stares at her with a furrowed brow. What is she playing at here? Is this some kind of trick to get back at him for staring? She’s dragging this out way longer than necessary.

Eleanor huffs. “Whatever, freeze your ass off all night, see if I care. But don’t say I didn’t try.” She rolls over so her back is to him. Maccready stares at her for a good long while, trying to decide if the risk is worth the reward. When his teeth start chattering again he finally makes up his mind.

He lifts the edge of her sleeping bag gingerly. The boss doesn’t stir. So far so good. He slides underneath the cover of her sleeping bag, his whole body tense. Still the boss doesn’t stir. It’s surprisingly warm underneath the sleeping bag already. He rolls so his back is towards the boss, deciding it’s the least intimate way for them to sleep. 

Mac wonders absentmindedly if the boss is always this warm. She’s like her own little furnace. Mac usually struggles to fall asleep and insteaddozes just under the surface of the real world, always ready to grab a gun at a moment’s notice. It’s a trait that a lot of wastelanders have, especially if they’ve spent time in as dangerous of company as Mac has.

He knows that the boss struggles to sleep too, and that despite how still and quiet she is she’s not sleeping. He wonders what she’s thinking about. Is she as freaked out by this as he is? This might be the closest Maccready has been to another human since Lucy, and it’s making all the hairs on his arms stand up.

He finds himself wondering what Lucy would think if she could see him now. He wonders that a lot, actually. He’d like to believe she’d be proud of him, but he doesn’t think that’s the case. Lucy wouldn’t have left Duncan behind. She wouldn’t have seen it as an option. And she was so, so smart, she would have been able to find a cure by now. 

Duncan thinks of his son back home, mostly bed bound and covered in oozing boils. He could only stand for a few minutes at a time, often he was so exhausted that Mac had to spoon feed him.

And what had Maccready done? He had left in the middle of the night because he couldn’t bear saying goodbye to his boy. He didn’t even tell anyone. He left a note for Isaac and Siobhan, the couple who’d hired him on as a farmhand, begging them to understand. 

And he left a note with a promise for Duncan. He promised that he’d come home and he’d bring a cure with him. And then he’d drawn a picture at the bottom with the stub of a green crayon. It was of the two of them and the farmer’s dog that Duncan loved so much.

And now, nine months later, he’s beginning to regret making that promise because he doesn’t think he can keep it. He’s become one of the mungos that he would have hated when he was a kid. 

**Author's Note:**

> One of my headcanons about the Commonwealth is that usually nobody wears underwear. Bras especially have fallen out of fashion. I just can’t imagine that after a nuclear fallout women would be crafting bras to wear, but that’s just my beliefs! So that’s why Mac gets so unbelievably worked up about a bra.


End file.
